


Smoke and Mirror

by starlesssky



Series: Man, Woman, and a cat [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Smoking, a bit of dirty words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlesssky/pseuds/starlesssky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You smoke to disguise yourself.<br/>But the mirror can reflect your true figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extra for this series.
> 
> If you are new to this series, please read [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5973331) first.

When he heard the shuttle stopped outside of his house, he blew smoke into the air. Holding a cigarette between his lips, he waited for more minutes, because he already waited long enough.  
Hearing the footsteps hasted towards here, he smirked.  
As the door opened, he looked at his wife's face, frowning at him. He blew smoke again.  
"I told you to stop smoking."  
She entered the bedroom, looking at him who sat on the armchair. He didn't stop smirking, held the lit cigarette between his fingers.  
"Welcome back, Millie. How was the party?"  
As she glared at him, he chuckled. When he came back home, the steward told him that his wife went to the dance party. He didn't intend to blame her, because he knew it was her duty as a captain's wife to attend parties for the cooporators of the First Order while he was away from their house, and it was he who didn't told her he would come back home soon.  
"Boring, as always."  
She spatted then turned her gaze away from him.  
"I heard you got to know some members of the First Order the other day. They were nice to you?"  
She pulled away the necklace from her neck, then frowned at him.  
"Who said that?"  
"One of my subordinates. He told me you were beautiful."  
She stared at his smirking face, then shook her head, closing her eyes.  
"Hollow compliments."  
He didn't answer. He knew she was not "beautiful", compared to the norm of beauty in the Empire. She had semi-long brunette, not long and shiny blond. She had lightly tanned skin, not snowy fair skin. She was a little short, not so tall like a statue. But still men gathered around her, not because of her figure, but because of her position as a wife of a high-ranking officer in the First Order. It was a tradition from the Empire, when the high-ranking officer made absence on his duty, the lower-ranking officer had to "give pleasure" to his wife, and her husband had to give rewards for the "devotion". He knew he had to respect the traditions from the Empire, but sometimes, there were trashy ones, even in his eyes.  
He vanished the cigarette in the ashtray on the side table. Standing up from the armchair, he walked towards her. She looked at him, but didn't retreat.  
As he looked down at her, she frowned again.  
"I don't like the smell, you know."  
He didn't answer, again. Just extending his arms to hold her, he pulled her closer and buried his face in her neck. He inhaled the smell of the rose perfume she always wore.  
"I don't want to smell like cigarettes."  
"But you like it, no?"  
He couldn't look at her face, but he was sure that she frowned.  
"You like the smell of cigarettes when I fuck you."  
He felt his wife tried to push him away.  
"Language!"  
"I just told the truth. You like your husband fucks you when he stinks of smoke. You like to smell like cigarettes after your husband fucks you again and again and again all night long. You like it, because he marks you as his."  
Suddenly, he felt her hands on his head. She ran her fingers in his ginger hair, as like she tried to soothe him. He gritted his teeth. Of course he usually didn't use dirty words, he behaved as a strict officer, but when he faced his wife, his long-time wife, the only one who knew he hid his pale and anxious face under his severe "mask"... she ripped the mask and looked into who he was. Sometimes he felt it so ridiculous. He never imagined this when he was "just" engaged with her, but she saw who he was, and she accepted who he was, and it soothed him so much, even if, he didn't want to admit it, that it made him so jealous when it came to his wife.  
"Once if you smell like another man, I'm going to kill."  
He groaned in a low voice, near by her ear. She didn't stir, just turned her face to him.  
"Me?"  
He laughed.  
"That man."  
Remembering that he sent the subordinate to the front lines - it was the "reward" for his words - Captain Hux kissed on his wife's neck.

  


"He doesn't want to dance with you?"  
As he - a weapon merchant for the First Order - asked, she frowned.  
"He?"  
"Your husband."  
She glanced at the corner of the room. He stood by the wide glass window, talking with another man - perhaps he was also a member of the First Order - as like he never had an idea of someone talking about him. She felt the man's arm around her waist tried to tighten a bit, and she almost stumbled to his feet. She looked up to his face, smiling apologized.  
"Sorry Sir. This is the reason why he doesn't want to dance with me."  
He frowned.  
"I'm not good at dance. Always stumbled on his feet."  
Then he laughed in a low voice.  
"If you are, it is his fault. Man should lead woman well."  
She smiled, feeling annoyed at his arms. Man should lead woman. You should follow your husband's guide, no, his order. It was what she was told when she was a young girl. She was just twelve. You are going to marry him. Her mother told her that day. Your father decided you to marry a son of a general. Who is he? I don't know, and it is not important, Millie. You are going to marry him, and you must follow him, whichever he is good or bad for you. You have to be a good wife. She looked up to her mother, and nodded. Yes, Mom, I'm going to be a good wife for him, like you.  
And that day, she met her future husband, a skinny boy with ginger hair and fair skin, for the first time. He looked at her, emotionlessly, and she bowed her head, like she wanted to escape from his cold piercing blue eyes.  
She felt as like someone stared at her. She looked around casually, but couldn't find anyone who looked at her. Glancing at her husband again, she found him watching outside through the wide glass window, holding a cigarette between his fingers. She frowned. She always told him not to smoke, because it could ruin his health...  
And she noticed. He looked at her, through the reflection of the glass window.  
"Madam?"  
At the man's voice, she turned her face to him. She pulled her hands away from his arms.  
"I think we have to take our leave now... he has to go back the First Order tomorrow."  
"Oh, it's bad news for me... He can go home alone, no? He won't mind if you stay a little more..."  
She smiled, even if she couldn't help but feeling annoyed to his "invitation".  
"I have to ask my husband when he is here."  
She walked away from him, then went near her husband. He still watched outside, and when she stood by him, he glanced at her, still holding the cigarette between his lips.  
"Have a nice evening?"  
He asked in a cold tone, and she nodded.  
"I think you have to go back home now."  
"If you want to stay more, I don't mind. I see you had good company..."  
"I'm going to go home with you."  
As she answered without hesitation, he didn't say anything for a while. He just walked toward the table, vanished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table, then turned toward her.  
"I think I didn't dance with you tonight."  
She chuckled quietly, not let anyone notice it.  
"You want me to break your feet?"  
"I saw you dancing well with him. It means you progressed, no?"  
He offered his hand to her, and she looked at his hand, then at his face. Still piercing blue eyes, but now, she could read what he thought through these eyes.  
As she put her hand on his, he led her to the dance floor. She saw that man who she danced a moment ago frowned at them, but her husband took her waist in his arms and turned her around to face him. She could feel the smell of the cigarette.  
"You are thinking about another man when you dance with your husband?"  
"If my husband can lead me so well that to let me think about another man."  
He giggled.  
"So I have to bother my wife with wrong steps."  
But in honesty, he could lead her very well when they danced together. He held her hand a little bit tighter and tried to pull her closer, then she stamped on his feet.  
"Behave."  
As she whispered under the breath, he chuckled.  
"Why you always failed your step when we dance?"  
"Because you failed to lead."  
"I know my wife likes my leading... in our bed?"  
At his seductive whispering in her ear, she frowned and answered in a low voice.  
"You shouldn't forget we are in public."  
"I don't mind what they think."  
She escaped her hand from his grip, then put on his chest. She could feel his heart beating on her palm, even if in the not-so-loud-but-niether-quiet dance floor.  
When she shook her head, with a straight face, he stared at her.  
"You really want to go back home with me?"  
He asked, as like he was not sure. She nodded.  
"Yes, I want."  
They walked out the dance floor. Some men tried to speak to him, but Lieutenant Hux answered them, he was leaving the dance party. As they got on the private shuttle and the chauffeur began to drive, the young officer grabbed his wife's jaw and looked into her blue eyes.  
"He tried?"  
"Failed."  
She answered with a smirk, even though it didn't make her husband smile. On the contrary, he frowned, then sighed.  
"I hate them."  
He put his forehead on her shoulder.  
"I hate all of them."  
He held his wife in his arms. He stayed there for a while, and she could see what he was thinking. She was not so naive that she couldn't stand that they - especially men - thought about her as their "prize", while he was a favourite with the wives of the officers of the First Order, like between them there was no connection, no link. Like he never minded her, she never worried him.  
She rubbed his shoulder slowly. She knew it was the best way for him to keep her from any danger... "from" them. In conclusion, the First Order was not clique. If you showed them your weakness, they never failed to take advantage of that. She ran her fingers through his ginger hair, and felt the remaining smell of the cigarette.  
So, no one should notice, there was a sort of deep connection between them.  
He raised his head from her shoulder, and turned his head to look at her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed her wrist, then kissed on her palm. He narrowed his eyes, then tried to claim her lips. She put her index finger on his lips to stop him. He stared at her, and smirked.  
She held his face in her hands and kissed on his lips. He sighed under the breath. As she knocked the gap between his lips with her tongue, he opened his mouth and invited her tongue. Their tongues danced together calmly, quietly, but passionately. She frowned at the bitter taste on his tongue, but, at the same time it fuelled her need.  
"Your tongue is better at a dance than your feet, no?"  
He asked her, facing in inches and it made her smile.  
"Shut up, or you want me to bite your tongue?"  
"Oh, please, bite me Millie, bite me."  
If someone who knew the young and ruthless Lieutenant Hux saw him begging like that, he/she couldn't believe it. She bit his underlip softly, then kissed the column of his neck. She felt he swallowed and moaned in a low voice. As she bit the skin of his neck, he trembled his body.  
And the chauffeur cleared his throat.  
"Sorry for interrupting, Sir, but we arrive so soon."  
He chuckled, while she blushed deeply.  
"Fine."  
She sat back next to him, feeling the heat on her face from embarrassment. As she heard her husband giggled, she glared at him.  
"You shouldn't forget we are in public, huh?"  
"Shut up."  
She covered her mouth with her hand, turning her gaze away from him. He chuckled and put his forehead on her shoulder again.  
"They don't mind, and they don't speak it around."  
"It doesn't mean you don't have to mind."  
"I always appreciate your behaviour, Millie, as an officer's wife."  
She didn't answer, looking outside of the window. Sometimes she wondered. All of the officers have relationships like this with their partners? Or it occurred only to them? She didn't know. Some would, and others not. But why it occurred to them? Could it happen to a couple married by an arranged marriage? Why, she saw, what was hidden in this young and ruthless officer that night? And why, she felt, like she could save him from the fear, and, wanted it? Wanted to help him, he, the boy, the skinny, fair skin, ginger boy, who killed the dying black butterfly in the garden that day?  
She didn't know.  
He put his hand on hers, then intertwined their fingers. He now wore white gloves, so she turned her gaze to him. He played with her fingers for a while, like he enjoyed the dance of their fingers.  
"Take off your gloves."  
As she said, he raised his head and smirked.  
"Patience, my wife. Wait till we enter the bedroom."  
"I don't want you to touch me with the gloves."  
She didn't know, what she felt for him. The still skinny, fair skin, ginger man with beautiful blue eyes, staring at her.  
He took off the gloves, then held her face in his hands to kiss on her lips. He mumbled, still kissing on her lips. His lips vibrated, as like he wanted to pour his words into her directly.  
"You would rather to ask me 'touch me without the gloves.'"  
And he was the only one, who asked her what she wanted.


End file.
